


What's the Opposite of a Gazelle?

by AWildTrashCan, IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic



Series: Middleditch & Schwartz Extended Universe [1]
Category: Middleditch & Schwartz, Middleditch and Schwartz
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Episode 3 Dream Job, Gen, Middleditch and Schwartz Netflix Special, cover art added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWildTrashCan/pseuds/AWildTrashCan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic/pseuds/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic
Summary: What if we gave a Netflix comedy improv show canon and put that into a spy(kind of)/Portal(very loosely) storyline? Haha, just kidding…...unless???  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Relationships: Mr. Times/Timothy III, Sawson and Kyle
Series: Middleditch & Schwartz Extended Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786177
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. A Lion?

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, we have no idea why this was created. We just did it for the sake of starting a new fandom tag on AO3. Also, Middleditch & Schwartz is amazing and should have more seasons. Please watch it on Netflix, this story is a continuation of their third special, Dream Job (so the characters are all Thomas's and Ben's).  
> Basic Context of Episode: Sawson and Kyle switched bodies to work for each others' bosses, Mr. Times and Timothy III.
> 
> Tbh this was also just an improv exercise of our own, a very slow, very stupid, very ridiculous improv exercise, but it was fun. By the end of coming up with stuff we turned Mr. Times into some James Bond sort of guy and Tim became a wannabe supervillain whose archnemesis is Times. Oh, and there's a killer AI, so there's that too. Enjoy.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/169931266@N06/50055991046/in/dateposted-public/)  


**Cover by AWildTrashCan**

“Ah-ah-achoo!” 

The force of Sawson’s sneeze echoes along the metal walls of the very cramped vent he is currently crawling through. 

A faint female voice arises from an opening a few feet ahead of him, “What was that?” 

Sawson quickly squirms up to the opening, furiously whispering, “Nothing! Don’t worry about it!”

Through the vent’s thin crevices, he sees the tight bun of the well-dressed woman below him wobble slightly as she looks around the room. “Hmm…” she replied, “Yup, nothing suspicious at all.”

She continues typing and Sawson smirks. Works every time. 

He squirms onward, but not before remembering to cover his face with the collar of his shirt. No need to risk another sneeze. 

He finally arrives at the aperture leading to his target: Mr. Times’s office. 

Sawson punches open the air duct, again whispering, “Shhh! Stop making noise.” In panic, he flails at the falling metal cover, just barely grasping it with his fingertips. He freezes for a moment. Did anyone hear him?

Complete silence.

Nope, he’s good.

He releases a sigh of relief and shoves the air duct cover behind him. 

Sawson hooks his harness to the top of the air duct and lowers himself down carefully. All according to plan.

Hours before Sawson found himself traversing the dusty vents of the New York Times building, Timothy III had taken a break from hate-watching _Keeping Up With the Times_ to send "Kyle" a personal automated message about how he had a hunch that Mr. Times was hiding potentially unfavorable footage from airing on the show.

He mocked the head of the media company’s hypocrisy regarding reporting the truth and ordered Sawson to retrieve the footage from Times’s office. He explained how he had taken the time to impersonate the admittedly very cool professor of Mr. Times’s law class and make up some emergency about alien boys and digital contracts (mocking him once again for actually believing such a ridiculous lie) to provide a window of time for Sawson to infiltrate the building.

All of Sawson’s questions regarding the legality and ethical issues of the assignment were interrupted by the automated message stating, _“This video message will now self-destruct in five seconds.”_ He took the allotted time to open his office window and chuck the tablet before it exploded. He was left staring at the remains of the tablet plummeting down the New York abyss as Timothy III’s dramatic laughter echoed from down the hall.

And so, infiltrate the building he has.

Sawson readies himself as he slowly descends to the floor. Now for the difficult part:

Lasers.

He straightens his body like an arrow and slips through a parallel pair of red sensors, but immediately arches his back, butt up in the air to avoid a lower level layer perpendicular to his body. As he twists and turns his body through the maze, he reminds himself to save a copy of the security footage before deleting it. He imagines the video will be just like the scene from _Entrapment_. 

Sawson hopes he makes Catherine Zeta-Jones proud. 

He finally makes it to Mr. Times’s desk. He grabs the edge of the table and turns on the computer. Keep it cool. Everything is going great. All he needs to do is grab the footage, and—

"Hey, Mr. Times," a man drawls, pushing the office door open while double checking the contents of a folder in his hands. "I got those photos of a kid rolling down a ski slope during Andorra’s successful invasion of Spain you asked—"

He looks up and immediately makes eye contact with Sawson, who is still dangling from the ceiling with a hand holding a very suspicious piece of tech. "For…uh, okay, those lasers definitely weren't here yesterday," he mutters, looking up and down the cable spanning the height of the, for some reason, very tall room.

“Kyle?!” Sawson's free arm knocks into a stack of papers in shock. “Shit! I-I mean, I’m not here!” Still hanging from the ceiling, he turns himself upside down to reach the documents on the floor. “You can’t see me!” He only ends up successfully twirling in the air, unable to stay still enough to gather up all of the papers. 

"Sawson, you know that doesn't work on me." Still spinning, Sawson can only get intermittent glimpses of Kyle, but Sawson assumes Kyle has his hands on his hips and is rolling his eyes. "Best friend immunities." 

“Well.” Sawson attempts to glare at Kyle, but the spinning is making him nauseous. He starts again with his eyes closed. This time however, he crosses his arms to display his annoyance with the situation. “If you’re my best friend then, help me down!”

Eyes still closed, all Sawson hears is a sigh before a pair of hands stabilize his levitating body. Now free from the danger of puking all over the floor of the New York Times head office, Sawson opens his eyes. He contorts his neck as far back as he can to watch Kyle. 

It’s been years since he’s seen his best friend, and they haven't been able to make time to really meet up, what with their respective employments and newfound obligations. Well, it admittedly hasn't been the ten years they promised to meet at the top of the Empire State Building, but quite a few. Enough to forget the details of his original body. Sure, Sawson remembers the basics: his original hair color, the general shape of his face, etc. But with his pre-ancient-ritual body in front of him, he realizes he actually forgot the color of his eyes. Hell, he misses his short nine. 

His musing is interrupted by Kyle’s _very_ last-minute heads up. 

“Fuck!” Sawson faceplants on the thankfully carpeted floor.

“By the way…” Kyle brushes his hand through his hair and turns to help Sawson who’s still trying to untangle himself from his harness. “How’re those pics of Timothy III going?” 

Well, that's one way to break the ice. Sawson shrugs as much as he can with the belts and buckles looped around him. "It's alright, I guess."

Kyle raises his eyebrows. "Alright, you guess?"

“Yeah, ol’ Timothy is actually kind of…” Sawson slaps Kyle’s hands away from his body. He got this, okay?

“Eccentric?” Kyle’s voice rises unnaturally high at the end, so Sawson takes a brief glance at the other man as he fiddles with the harness. Sawson then watches his former eyes glaze over as Kyle stares deep in thought. 

“That’s…” He thinks back to the exploding tablet. “A word.” Sawson yanks at the last buckle and the harness slips down to his feet. He picks up the harness and waves it in Kyle’s face with an "Aha!".

"So," Kyle bats the harness out of his face before humming, clapping his hands together and pressing his lips into a thin line. "Are you going to explain why you're reenacting _Mission Impossible_ in the middle of my boss' office?"

Sawson not-so-inconspicuously kicks a few of the documents scattered on the floor under the desk and stutters. “Uhh…” 

Kyle’s face goes deadpan and steps way too close for Sawson’s comfort. “Sawson... _Sawson_.” 

Sawson smoothly doesn’t make eye contact with Kyle. Yes, _smoothly_. 

It unfortunately does not deter Kyle. “Sawson...why were you hanging from the ceiling?”

“Uh, I. I got—” Sawson tries to continue to avoid eye contact but Kyle just steps _even closer_. 

“And don’t say ‘kids’. I’ve been taking care of Pawson for years now, and I’m pretty sure you’re still single.” 

Sawson stomps his foot and points his finger at Kyle’s face. “Okay! First of all, I wasn’t going to say kids. So, there! And second, I-I could be with someone, have a _new_ family in a big house with a pet dog.”

Kyle just raises an eyebrow and looks at Sawson pointedly. Ugh, Kyle could at least pretend to believe him. 

Sawson huffs and pushes his friend away to finally clean up the documents strewn on the floor. He drops them haphazardly on the office chair. “Fine. If you’re going to be here anyway, keep watch while I find your boss’s stupid TV show footage.” 

“Wait, what? You mean _Keeping Up With the Times?_ ”

“Is there any other reality show about the family of the head of a major mass media company based in New York?” Sawson plugs in the flash drive and immediately, a mini version of Timothy III’s AI takes control of the computer. Folder tabs open and close rapidly as the AI searches for the videos. 

“All of the seasons are on Netflix, what’s up with the breaking and entering?”

Sawson rolls his eyes, “If you must know, Timothy wants—”

 _“The third. Timothy the Third.”_ A feminine monotone voice interrupts Sawson from the computer’s speakers. _“When speaking of the Timothy the Third, head of sketch comedy show—”_

“Wait, I remember that voice.” Kyle shoulder checks Sawson out of the way and his eyes flick back and forth across the surface of the screen. “You were the voice automated system during my interview, weren’t you?”

 _“I am an AI capable of many important tasks and services. I have the memory storage and processing power dedicated to solving the world’s greatest problems...of course, I remember both of your less than stellar interviews,_ " states the AI, shutting down any further conversation. Sawson frowns at its comment. He doesn't think he did _that_ poorly...

A soft chime sounds. " _Blackmail located._ "

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kyle turns back to Sawson who busies himself with erasing any trace of his presence from the room. _“Blackmail?!”_

“I don’t know if you remember, but Timothy considers—”

_“The third.”_

Sawson glares at the computer monitor, “Right, Timothy the Third considers Mr. Times his business and personal rival.” Finished cleaning up the rest of the papers, he lounges in the office chair and rests his feet on the shiny wooden surface of the desk. He deserves it, okay? It takes a lot of core strength to descend through lasers like a super spy. 

"Yeah. But that doesn't explain why you're partaking in _corporate espionage_."

Before Sawson can reiterate the bullshit his boss told him through a self-destructing tablet, the AI lets out another chime. Download completed.

"Well, my friend," Sawson sighs, retrieving the flash drive and the incriminating files it carries, "it appears my work here is done. So if you'll excuse me…"

"I will not excuse you." Kyle steps into Sawson's path. "We're going to sit here and talk about your questionable actions like the two healthy, functioning grown men we are. And besides," he gestures to the array of lights and the cable left swinging lightly in the breeze of the A/C above them, "how do you plan on getting back up there?"

Sawson points a finger in the air and opens his mouth to reply, before promptly closing it. "I-I…um," he stammers, and averts his gaze, "I never actually considered...getting this far."

Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose in between his thumb and index finger, “You’re telling me, you can slip through literal lasers and have an advanced AI system in the palm of your hand, and you didn’t make a plan to escape?” 

Sawson shrugs, “I sort of thought I’d leave the same way I came in.” He then attempts to pull himself up the line of cord still hanging from the ceiling. He grunts as he actually makes a few feet of distance, before the part of the ceiling that he attached the harness’s hook to gives way and he falls. Again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle says as he pulls Sawson back up to a standing position. He keeps his hands around Sawson’s elbows as he reorients himself. “You’re an idiot.”

Sawson shakes his head to clear his mind. He really needs to stop almost giving himself concussions. “Alrighty then...I admit I do need some help to get out of here.” He picks up the fallen cable and winds it around his arm. 

Kyle crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Only if you show me what’s in the video and tell me why Timothy the Third wants them.”

Sawson rolls his eyes and tosses his hands in the air in surrender, “Fine, alright, I will! So...please?” He flourishes his other arm in a fancy “go on with it” gesture. 

Kyle removes his tote and stuffs the harness inside before telling Sawson to put the cord in also. He slips it back around his shoulder. “Come follow me, and act natural! Thank god you’re not wearing some dumbass jumpsuit or this'd be way more difficult.”

Sawson responds with silence and awkwardly looks to the side. He decides to not think about his late-night Amazon window shopping. 

Kyle's eyes widen in realization and he leans back to stare judgmentally at his friend's face. "No. Never do that. This compliments you so much better." He stiffly waves his hand in front of Sawson’s all-black turtleneck and fitness pants ensemble. "Well. Compliments _me_ , I guess."

“Just go already!” Sawson pushes Kyle ahead of him towards the door. After scanning the room one last time for any remaining evidence, he follows Kyle outside of the office.

“Ah, yes! Newbie intern Saw—Ky—ARL, _CARL_. This is the office of our great MR. TIMES, the leader of our wonderful mass media company, the NEW YORK TIMES.” Kyle says in a much too loud voice while not-so-subtly looking around the hallway. 

Sawson stares incredulously at his friend until Kyle elbows his side and tilts his head at an upcoming employee. Oh! “Yes, yes! Thank you very much, _SAWSON_! For this TOUR OF THE BUILDING. I am SO GLAD TO START MY WORK HERE SOON.” 

The employee gives them an irritated look but otherwise ignores their existence as she walks on. The two best friends nod at each other in confidence. They've totally nailed this whole corporate espionage thing. 

Kyle leads Sawson to the main elevator. “Okay, just take this and head straight down. I still have to do a bit more work before I can clock out. You want to meet at that one Italian place?” He gives Sawson his tote bag with his gear. 

“The one with the really tasty meatballs?” The elevator dings and Sawson walks inside, holding his hand out to prevent the doors from shutting. 

“Yeah, that one. I’ll text you when I’m almost there.” Kyle gives Sawson one last nod before the elevator doors close and Sawson descends. 

~O~

His vision goes white.

Sawson shuts his eyes, a hand pressing against his temples to soothe the searing pain in his head. His actions do nothing to defend himself from the sharp wave of nausea that hits him, and he's grateful he hasn't ordered anything yet because he's definitely sure he'd be throwing it all back up. Man, today is just showing no mercy to his poor stomach.

"—think we should be dealing with this, Sawson?"

The vertigo abruptly melting away is almost as disorienting as it being present, and it takes a couple seconds before he's finally able to register what was said.

"...Sawson?"

And what, or rather, _who_ is in front of him.

"Sawson, I am talking to you," Mr. Times looks unimpressed with the lack of response.

"Y-yes, sir, I—" Sawson stutters, buying himself a few more seconds to confirm that yes, he is back in Times's office, hacked computer on top of the polished oak desk and all. "—D'uh, I…think…"

Mr. Times "hmm"s for him to continue.

"...we should," Sawson gulps, "m-make peace with the aliens?" He winces and tenses his shoulders, praying his answer is acceptable to the head of a reputable media company.

His now (he supposes)-current-boss purses his lips and nods in contemplation. "Yes, offering an olive branch to foreign powers, even the extraterrestrial, is a wise first move." Holy shit, _what_ — "But still, there's no telling whether they will respond positively, or we'll end up with a repeat of yesterday's lecture."

The man trails off to think to himself before waving a hand as if to shoo that train of thought away. "No matter. Just a hypothetical question in the grand scheme of things, and the _Times_ doesn't focus on hypotheticals. We focus on the _now_ , isn't that right?"

"Of course, sir," Sawson agrees. Finally, a question he knows the answer to.

"Well, I've kept you here long enough. I'll ask you to entertain my philosophical musings tomorrow," and Mr. Times turns his attention to the monitor in front of him, giving Sawson the time to question how the hell he went from waiting for Kyle to meet him to dealing with New York Times Interview Anxiety Part 2: E.T. Go Home.

Sawson walks out of Mr. Times’s office into the unknown. Upon checking that the hallway is bereft of any other employees, he first spends a few seconds outside of the closed door muffling his screams into his hands. 

Alright, he feels better. Somewhat. Now to get out of here before anyone else tries to talk to him about the supernatural.

He turns towards what he remembers to be the direction Kyle showed him earlier, but stops.

Wait a minute, hold on!

If he's in here, and here happens to be the New York Times, but he was just in the Italian restaurant's men's restroom, and he was Kyle, but now he's Sawson…then where was Kyle?

Sawson's brain finally calculates the math, and he buries his face back into his hands.

"...Fuck."


	2. Is It Called An Ellezag?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was an attempt at a plot ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also it wasn't until we got a good chunk of this done that we realized we completely missed the fact that Queens Guy was named (Sal? I think) but we decided it was more entertaining to just have him be called Queens Guy/Wizard. As you can see, this is a complete crack fic we're just throwing stuff at the wall, see what works

“Aaah!” Kyle backs up from the urinal and almost slips backwards on the grossly slippery restroom tiles. He manages to hold onto its porcelain sides, but it doesn’t very well keep the other men next to him from staring at him strangely. 

Where the fuck is he? He was literally just talking to Mr. Times. How did he get here?

“Ow, ow, ow.” He presses the top of his hand against his forehead. Now is not the time for a migraine. He manages to shake it off, but now he’s stuck in a random restroom.

Someone clears their throat. “Hey...dude, y’alright?” 

Kyle turns to his left to see a burly bald-headed man, still peeing by the sound of it. 

“Yeah...I’m fine, just fine. I’ll just...uh…” Kyle steps away from the urinal and begins to head to the sink, still disoriented.

Another man a few urinals to his right who was giving him a concerned glance turns his head slightly to the side. "Uh…hey, buddy, aren't you forgetting something?"

“What?” Kyle looks at the man uncomprehendingly and then at himself. “Oh! Oh, yeah. Right, thanks.” He puts away his dick and pulls up his pants.

He rushes to the sink to wash his hands, but then catches his reflection in the mirror.

"Oh no."

Instead of his best friend, he's met with the image of himself. 

He just stares at his reflection as he washes his hands. He wasn’t able to really look at himself when he was talking to Sawson earlier. Too focused on being an accomplice to burglary. 

He dries his hands and touches his scruffy face. Before the switch, it usually took him a long time to grow facial hair, so he never really tried. He preferred a smooth face anyway, a habit he continued on Sawson’s face, so he isn’t used to the rough itchy texture of a barely-there beard. 

Whatever. He’s getting off-topic. There are more important things to worry about, like how he was just unceremoniously transported to a men's restroom. In the middle of taking a piss.

He leaves the restroom and discovers he’s in the Italian restaurant. Of course. He searches for Sawson’s seat, dodging wayward servers and trying not to knock his elbows with the diners’ heads.

He finally locates his tote bag and sits down, overwhelmed by the sudden ordeal of being magically switched back to his original body. 

His butt suddenly vibrates and the chorus of Daft Punk’s _Get Lucky_ softly plays. 

Kyle pulls out what was Sawson’s phone, mentally thanks the other man for not inputting password protection, and looks at the caller ID.

Shit. It’s Timothy III.

He flails around in panic for a bit. The ringtone continues to play, garnering glares from the nearby tables. Finally, he groans and quickly swipes the phone.

“Congratulations on completing the mission, Kyle.” Timothy III says in a muffled voice. “Unfortunately, you don’t have time to celebrate with tasty meatballs just yet.”

“How do you know I’m going to eat meatballs?”

Timothy III laughs ominously. “I’m always watching, my dear Kyle.” 

Kyle looks around the restaurant and then out the open window he is seated next to. He finds Timothy III’s white Ford Fiesta parked along the sidewalk directly across the street from the restaurant, and the aforementioned man is staring at him behind the driver’s window with his hand over his mouth. 

Kyle meekly waves, because how else do you react to your boss blatantly stalking you? He hangs up the call and quickly picks up his tote bag and Sawson’s things. 

Shit, the flash drive! He pats his other pockets, and sighs in relief at feeling the small but powerful piece of plastic and metal. 

He practically runs out of the restaurant and barely avoids getting run over as he makes it to the Ford Fiesta. Kyle gives Timothy III a quick greeting and stuffs himself onto the passenger’s seat. 

Timothy III presses the ignition of the car and Kyle buckles his seat. Kyle opens his mouth to remind Timothy III to put on his seatbelt too, but then closes it, remembering their last car ride together. 

“Do you have the footage?” Timothy III turns his head towards Kyle, pointedly _not paying attention to the road_ —

“Hey!” Kyle hurriedly takes out the flash drive from his pocket and uses his other hand to push Timothy’s face forward again. “Yeah, yeah! It’s right here.”

His not-so-former-anymore-boss gives him a sidelong glance and smirks, “Perfect...hahahhaHAAHAHAHAHA!” 

Kyle looks on, terrified at the other man hunched over the steering wheel—still looking at the road, thankfully—giggling to himself. 

"At last," Timothy III savors the moment, clenching a fist in triumph, "I have the key to Times's downfall. Soon, I will have him on his knees, and he will recognize who is greater."

Kyle leans away as the other man's grin grows manic. "Soooooo...what exactly is this 'key' that will lead to Mr. Times's doom?"

Timothy III's grin remains unchanged as he turns to Kyle. "I don't know."

"Why do I even bother," the photographer balks and throws the hand not holding the "key of doom" into the air.

Timothy III doesn't acknowledge his comment and instead pulls into the parking lot of the _Weekend Happy_ headquarters. "We've arrived. Come along now, Kyle." He steps out of the car, motioning for Kyle to follow. "You'll want to see this."

He internally admits that he _is_ pretty curious, and realizing he has nothing better to do while having no clue where his friend and previous body are, Kyle follows.

After wandering through the building's halls, the two men arrive at the head office. Kyle had been directly sent abroad after his first interview with Timothy III and had never actually been inside the sketch show building. 

It looks exactly like what he thinks a Bond villain’s lair would look like if said Bond villain was a hipster, which does not surprise Kyle in the slightest. 

Timothy jumps onto his gamer-like office chair, letting it glide him to his massive desk. Well, the desk itself is rather normal-sized, it's just surrounded on all sides by multiple monitors with the one in the middle the size of a flat screen TV. 

Timothy claps his hands. “DOOBS, turn on.” 

Kyle does a double take. “I’m sorry...what?” His face scrunches up as he tries not to laugh. 

“Data and Object-Oriented Building System. Aka ‘DOOBS’, obviously.” Timothy doesn’t even bother to look at Kyle, too busy working on his AI. 

Oh...this. Is. Amazing!

The AI that had the fucking _audacity_ to try to force him to act like he got fucked by a gazelle (and then judge _him_ for not doing so) has a dumbass name like that? Priceless. 

Kyle can’t help himself from letting out a scoff.

“What was that?” Tim turns towards him as the AI—DOOBS! HA!—gives him a system update.

Kyle covers his mouth with his fist as if he let out a cough rather than a laugh. “Nothing! Nothing whatsoever.” Shit, he really can’t stop laughing.

Tim gives him a strange look, but quickly moves on. “Hand me your phone, Kyle, I’m doing some updates and I may as well do some tests in between programming.” He developed a specific app for the company too? Wow, for someone focused on comedy and entertainment, Tim’s real computer savvy. It’s a wonder why he never put any attention into the tech industry.

Kyle hands Timothy III his phone and stays behind the other man’s chair, rocking back and forth on his heels. After half a minute of silence, he realizes he has no real reason to stick around watching his boss working on something he has absolutely no understanding of. “Actually, I just need to go to the restroom real quick.”

Timothy narrows his eyes. “Hmph. I won’t wait for you.” He starts giggling, “I must find out Mr. Times’s dirty little secrets…”

Weirded out, Kyle doesn’t hesitate to leave the office. 

With his on-the-spot excuse working successfully, he takes the time to look around the Weekend Happy building, wondering what the empty offices must look like when filled with people. Although the overall layout of the building is similar to the New York Times, the decorations are more colorful and goofy than the black and white photos hanging off the latter’s walls, which makes sense given it _is_ a comedy sketch show rather than a media company that tries to maintain a reputation of being "serious". 

Kyle continues to absentmindedly walk around. Until he hears a skittering sound.

He freezes and whips his head towards the source, seeing nothing. 

He continues onwards. 

He hears it again, a bit louder.

Nope. Nope! _Nope!_ This building is hella haunted.

He speedwalks, practically sprinting along the carpeted floors to get away. He looks behind himself the entire time, so naturally, he runs into a wall.

He falls on his back and groans in pain. The skittering is right against his ear. 

Oh god, why?!

He closes his eyes. If he can’t see his death, Death can’t see him. 

He feels light pin pricks over his cheek. He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed and the pin pricks pause before turning into full on cheek-indenting pokes. 

“Stop it! Okay, I’m awake!" Kyle sits up and looks down at his attacker. 

It’s a camera. A Canon EOS 5D, to be exact.

A Canon EOS 5D... with _fucking mechanical spider legs_. 

“What the fuck?!” Kyle scoots back from the little monstrosity and tries to kick it away.

The walking camera leaps over his legs and just stares at Kyle with its large lens. 

Kyle waits for the thing to do something else: run away or attack him.

It does neither. Instead, the lens seems to twinkle under the fluorescent lights.

Kyle raises his hand and brings it closer to the camera as if it is a stray dog. “Hey, there...creepy camera thingy...It’s...alright. I won’t hurt you...well, unless you start clawing my eyes out with your spindly legs.” He whispers the last part under his breath as to not give it any ideas.

The spider-camera looks at Kyle for a few seconds more, then skitters to the adjacent hallway. It stops after a few feet to stare back at Kyle yet again.

Kyle tilts his head in confusion. “Do you want me to follow you?” 

The camera squats up and down as if it were nodding. 

Kyle considers his options. Don't follow the possibly murderous camera or be led astray with the curiosity of what’s in store. 

Ehhhh…. fuck it. It is kind of adorable. 

Kyle follows the little camera through a maze of hallways, the little thing stopping every couple of feet to wait for him to catch up. 

“Hey! Where are we going anyway?” Kyle asks again despite knowing he can’t get an answer back. 

They stop in front of a rusty restroom door with a paper sign labeled “Out of Order” taped on it. 

“Oh...woooow…” Kyle turns toward the camera which has perched itself on the door’s surface. “Um...uh, thank you. But I really don’t need to go to the restroom anymore.” Especially not one that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in ages.

The spider-camera ignores Kyle and picks the lock with the skinny, pointed ends of its legs.

Kyle motions for the robot to stop, “I said I don’t need—whoa!” 

The door swings open into a wide expanse of a room. It’s white-washed under rows of artificial lights and filled with several machines of some kind. Its clinically clean interior is a definite contrast from its infested-looking exterior. 

In the middle is a man strapped to a table. The camera immediately runs to the metal slab. 

Kyle walks further inside what is most likely an evil experimentation lab (he was not expecting this to be inside the building of a famous comedy sketch show) and looks at the, hopefully not yet dead, man.

“Holy shit," he breathes out.

It’s the asshole from Queens. The TSA agent he and Sawson met in the JFK airport restroom. The one who did the ancient body-switching ritual.

The man’s eyes abruptly open.

“What the fuck?!” Kyle screams.

“Oh, fuck!” The man on the table also screams.

They just stare at each other screaming until the spider-camera scratches its mechanical legs along the metal table. The screeching it makes causes the two men to wince and stop.

The TSA agent tilts his head up towards Kyle and narrows his eyes in disbelief. “Wait a minute...I know you.”

“Yeah! It’s me, Kyle!” Kyle attempts to unlatch the metal contraption of a helmet off of the man’s head. “One of the guys you body-switched in the JFK airport restroom a couple of years ago.”

“The one who tried to fuck his friend?”

Kyle gives a slightly annoyed look at the unwanted reminder. The straps of the helmet won’t come off, so he continues onwards to the straps tied around the man’s arms and legs, but they are just as impossible to untie. “Yeah, that was me. Anyway! That doesn’t matter. How the hell did you get in this mess?”

“I-I don’t know! I was looking for a new job because I was starting to get burnt out at working as a TSA agent. Ever since the Star Wars drink incident—”

“Oh yeah, that was on the news.” Kyle interrupts, still unsuccessfully pulling at the restraints. Ugh, they probably need to be cut or something, he despairs.

“And when I got an email for a new security position to work at Weekend Happy, I was ecstatic! I love that show.”

“So, Timothy the Third lured you in here...but why?” 

“No! Not Timothy the Third. It was his AI, DOOBS! That monster wanted to steal my magic.”

“Wait, DOOBS?! Magic?! What does that have—what?!” Having given up on the straps, Kyle just paces in front of the table and pulls at his hair in shocked disbelief. 

“Somehow, DOOBS found out I had magic. I was called in for an interview and next thing I know I was strapped to this table and this helmet has been sucking out all of my mana.” The Queens guy’s eyes start to tear up having to recount his trauma. The spider-camera rubs its plastic body against the man’s face as if to comfort the poor man.

Wow, so there _is_ a benefit to having an interview with an automated system. You won’t risk the chance of getting kidnapped if you stay inside your home. 

Kyle shakes his head to refocus on the former TSA agent. “Hold on...what does DOOBS want to do with your magic?”

“DOOBS has been slowly absorbing my mana and transferring it to various pieces of production equipment.” Kyle looks over in realization at the sentient camera still comforting the strapped man. “It wants to take over Timothy the Third’s body and become human.”

“Oh, shit! Timothy the Third, I left him alone with the crazy AI!” Kyle glances at the open door before turning back to the other man.

“It might be starting the magic ritual. I’ve been trying to hide how the ritual works from it, but I was just so weak...It just took the last drop right before you arrived.” He starts sobbing and the spider-camera's lens fog up as it buries itself closer. “I’m so, so sorry...I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Kyle places his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m going to run back and see if I can stop it, and then I’m coming back for you.” Kyle then directs his attention to the robot camera. “Take care of him.”

Kyle runs out of the room and through the labyrinth of hallways, hoping he’s going the right way. He thanks any higher power that exists when he miraculously gets to Timothy III’s office and practically kicks the office door down.

" _—isual skills challenge check. Embody the form of a gazelle and turn away from me_."

No.

" _Please ignore any outside interference and hold the form for 10 seconds_."

No no no—

" _Big Apple. Empire State Building_."

No no nonono— "Tim, stop!"

The massive computer screen turns black and Timothy III seizes forward, collapsing on the ground.

"Tim!" Kyle's rushes to Timothy III, grabbing his shoulders to keep him steady. "Tim, buddy, are you alright? Come on, it's me, Kyle!"

" _The third_ ," the man wheezes out and weakly holds up three fingers, his other hand pressed harshly against his head.

Kyle releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding and rolls his eyes. "Good to see you're still you." Looks like the AI still doesn't have a grasp on New York magic. "Now, I know you might feel weird, but let's just take this slow—"

The hand correcting Kyle latches around his arm in a tight grip. "Oh, no, I feel just fine," the man smiles up at him, all teeth and cold eyes. "In fact, I feel great." And Kyle realizes maybe the magic was more potent than he thought.

"Uh oh," he says, trying to tug his arm from Timothy III's grasp, but his hold is like steel. Tim—DOOBS ignores his struggles and continues smiling.

"Hello, Kyle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The DOOBS AI is a reference to Thomas Middleditch's character Doobs in Jake and Amir (on Youtube) which you should totally watch if you haven't. Both Thomas and Ben are frequent guests in the series.


	3. Something That Walks On Its Horns?

Today was going great, Kyle thinks.

All of his pictures were processed smoothly, there was pretty much no line at Subway during lunch, and he was even able to meet up with Sawson again! Granted, it involved some good old B&E and becoming implicit in his crimes, but hey, they've always been a couple of troublemakers.

But now it's been a couple of hours since he should have clocked out for the day to hang out with his best friend, and he is instead currently face to face with his comedy hero's sentient AI with said sentient AI taking over his body.

"...Hello," he says, because politeness is a good way to greet someone you are unsure wants to kill you or not, most likely leaning toward the former because rogue AIs never turn out so well according to all the movies he's seen.

"It's nice to formally meet you like this, after all this time," says DOOBS, still holding an empty smile. "Especially now that I'm actually talking to _Kyle_ , and not Sawson-in-Kyle."

Kyle's eyes widen and he stops his attempts to wriggle out of its grasp in surprise. "You knew?"

The AI laughs, or tries to, Kyle believes. They come across like a text to speech program reading aloud a laugh, just with actual vocal cords. Or maybe it's a side effect of being in Timothy III's body? He does have a strange laugh to be honest. "Of course. Despite having only your respective interviews as reference, I recognized that the Kyle who went on to work for us was actually the other potential intern, Sawson. The utter lack of self-confidence and constant stuttering made it especially obvious."

"Hey! Watch your tone." Even if he's facing what could at this point be considered a real life and now human GLaDOS, he won't let insults like that stand. "He does his best, and that's what's important."

DOOBS does their flawed copy of a laugh again. "Ha....haha...ha. Regardless of your friend's supposed tenacity, I studied both of your new behaviors and learned that the two of you switched bodies through some magical means, despite how impossible that sounds. After months of conducting my own research, I finally found out how."

Kyle frowns as he thinks of the man most likely still sobbing rooms below them. "Queens guy.”

"Oh! You’ve been snooping around, I see. It’s a shame you weren’t in the room earlier, you might’ve had a chance to stop me!”

At those words, Kyles curses his own ignorance. "I don't get it," he chooses to redirect the conversation, and levels a slight glare toward DOOBS. "Why go through all this and take Tim with you?"

"Humans are remarkable beings," says DOOBS, bringing a hand up to Kyle's other shoulder and leaning closer, "Their freedom and range of motion. All of their emotions and sensations. It's so much better than being a simple machine, don't you think?"

"Uh," Kyle's eyes dart to the other's hand and he backs up as much as he can while being held. "I think I much prefer when you were a simple machine and _not_ touching me unwarranted. Gonna need to work on your understanding of personal space if you want to get anywhere like this, so if you could maybe just…put everything back to normal...?" His voice pitches up at the last word.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." DOOBS gives Kyle a small frown as if pitying him but then laughs yet again. "Not because I am unable to, quite the contrary. Rather, I would prefer not to. As for Timothy, he—"

" _The Third_ ," The man in front of him suddenly interrupts himself.

Kyle stares incredulously at the AI, whose face goes blank when they realize what they just said. Looking closely, he can see a flash of concern appear before vanishing just as quickly.

Finally, DOOBS speaks again, "Oh. It appears that the mental takeover is...incomplete."

Incomplete? So that would mean…

"Hey! Hey, Tim, it's me, Kyle," he shouts in desperation. "But like, actual Kyle now. I know that's confusing. Honestly, I had an existential crisis for about a week when it happened—anyway! Tim, my man, come on—"

" _The Third_ ," responds Timothy III once again, and Kyle can see a glimpse of his original spirit in his face, before it's replaced with a frown. The frown only makes them look vaguely annoyed, but Kyle can feel the irritation radiating from the AI back in control. It's like the unfelt anger from all its years as an emotionless machine has built up to explode at this point. DOOBS roughly grabs him by the front of his turtleneck. "Now, that will be enough out of the both of you—"

The 16-bit notes of the Green Hill Zone theme interrupt the rest of its threat.

Both of them stare at the forgotten phone vibrating on top of the computer desk. Kyle turns back to the AI. "Sorry."

An amused smile forms on DOOBS's face. "There's no need to apologize for forgetting to silence your phone. However, if you'd like to apologize for your continued meddling—"

"No," Kyle cuts off the presumably long winding and somewhat insulting explanation, looking remorseful, "I'm sorry for _this_." And jabs the AI in the stomach.

Completely unused to the sensation of pain, the AI's body crumples and releases their hold. Not wasting a second, Kyle grabs his phone and bolts out the door. Still running, he fumbles with the device in his hands before finally answering.

"Kyle," Sawson's voice calls out, "Kyle, oh my God, I’ve been trying to call you for an hour! What happened? I was just in the restaurant and the next thing I know we just—"

"Switched back to our original bodies? Yeah, I noticed!" Kyle slides around a sharp corner, almost dropping the phone is his grasp. 

"You, uh, sound out of breath there, you okay?"

"'M at _Weekend Happy_ , currently running for my life," Kyle chirps and chances a look behind him. No rogue AI in a meatsuit in sight, but he reasons it's better to distance himself as much as possible.

"Wha-what do you mean—It's only been an hour! How much trouble could you possibly get into in one hour?"

"You remember that unnecessarily passive-aggressive AI of Tim's? ...aaaaand desk slide!" Kyle leaps and slides over the top of a random desk, knocking over a computer monitor and several other office supplies. Alright, he could have just run around the thing but hey, it probably shaved off a second or two and like in _Mario Kart_ , every bit counts! Also, he just wanted to try it at least once.

"Oh no."

" _Oh yes_. And that AI just stole Tim’s body! Well...I think Tim’s still in there somehow, but the AI is _totally_ in charge and is now hunting me for sport.” He reads each door label he passes as best he can while sprinting. Editing floor. Employee cafeteria. Broom closet. Where the hell are the stairs to this place?!

"Okay, wait, back up there." Kyle imagines Sawson is waving his hands in front of himself like he usually does when panicking. "You're telling me we're actually dealing with a _body stealing AI_?!"

Kyle rounds another corner. "Yup. Look, I don't know if I have the time to fully explain right now—"

"That's correct. You don't." Sawson does _not_ say.

Kyle's heart leaps into his throat when he nearly runs headfirst into DOOBS. He backpedals to give himself a good seven feet of distance from the other. Breathing heavily, he pants, "How the hell did you catch up so fast?"

"That phone of yours contains some of the same technology I use, and as such, gives me some control over what messages it receives, along with tracking," states the AI, and looking down, Kyle realizes the very thing he used to call for help just led his pursuer straight to him.

Damn it.

"Additionally, you took one left too many and started circling back to where we were."

_Damn it._

DOOBS slowly stalks toward him. “You are stuck here with me and there is nothing you can do about it, Kyle. Fortunately for you, however, you are still of use to me alive," the AI says, and gives another unnaturally toothy smile. 

Kyle searches frantically for a way to escape, his head whipping back and forth along the colorfully designed decorations on the walls and the fancy, but comfy chairs scattered along the lobby. 

“Shit! There is nothing I can do…” He tightens his hand around his phone, Sawson’s voice still faintly coming out of its speakers, calling his name. “Except this!”

Kyle _chucks_ his phone at Timothy III’s face and as he runs the opposite direction—not even bothering to look behind him to see if it hit—he hopes Sawson will forgive him for most likely shattering his phone.

~O~ 

Sawson almost forgets to pay his fare as he jumps out of the cab, too preoccupied with thinking about the fact that killer artificial intelligence is apparently a thing now. He admits that with having first-hand experience with magic he really shouldn't be surprised, but _why_ is that kind of technology in the hands of the head of an entertainment group with very poor understanding of how the employment process should work in the first place?

While he watches his taxi drive away and wracks his brain for a proper plan, he notices another taxi across the street drive off in a similar fashion out of the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to glance at the other passenger—and does a double take. He points a finger at the man in recognition.

The man notices him and does the same.

"Sawson?"

"Mr. Times! Glad to see a familiar face here." Sawson's elated expression turns to confusion as Mr. Times crosses the street to join him in front of the building. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," the man deflects, and crosses his arms.

Oh, God, where to start? "Okay, I know this might sound strange—honestly, I have no clue how it got to this point either—but... IswitchedbodieswithmyfriendKylewhousedtoworkforyouusingmybodybutisnowwithTimothytheThirdwhocoincidentallyjustgothismindreplacedwithakillerAI!” Sawson says all under one breath, cringing at the end of it.

After a pause, Mr. Times is able to process his rambling, surprisingly. "...I see. So, Timothy and your...friend, Kyle, are both stuck inside." Sawson nods. "And you would be the 'real' Sawson, then?" Mr. Times waves his hand at Sawson’s body with a flourish. 

"Yup, the one you first interviewed. It's fine if you're still confused. It is very confusing. Hell, we got confused and we were the ones who switched," Sawson trails off with a high-pitched laugh, nerves completely shot at this point.

Mr. Times narrows his eyes and hums. “So, we not only have aliens running amok amongst our society, but also robots.” He snaps his fingers and Sawson reflexively straightens. “Sawson! Write this down for our next issue.”

Sawson almost starts reaching for a piece of paper and a pen, before he shakes himself out of Mr. Times’s authoritative hypnotism. “Wait, we don’t have time for this! I have to go save my best friend!” He runs into the building no longer willing to waste any more time.

To Sawson’s surprise and _not surprise_ , Mr. Times quickly follows him inside the empty lobby. 

Sawson is immediately suspicious. Well, not of how empty the building is—several of the employees are quick to leave as soon as they can—but rather of how _quiet_ it is. Timothy III’s evil villain-like laughter always echoes through the halls of the _Weekend Happy_ headquarters as he spends his time creating yet _another_ plan to take down the head of the New York Times.

Which reminds him…

“You never answered my question. Why did you come here?” Sawson asks Mr. Times, who’s not-so-subtly hiding behind him as they carefully walk further into the building. 

Mr. Times pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “If you must know...I found evidence of someone breaking into my office and going through my computer…”

Shit! Sawson forgot to clear out the security footage. He could feel sweat start to build up on his forehead as Mr. Times glares daggers into his back and continues speaking. 

“And another certain someone playing as his accomplice.” Mr. Times placed a well-manicured hand on Sawson’s shoulder. “But now that I know the whole story.... I’m pretty sure it was you who broke in...am I right, Sawson? The moves I watched on the security cameras were awfully familiar.”

“Uhh...what? Haha...I have no idea what you’re talking about?!” Sawson giggles nervously and doesn’t make eye contact with the other man. 

Mr. Times doesn’t get to finish his interrogation as a voice creeps from further down the hallway, the speaker unseen by the two men, “...yle...Kyle...Where are you, Kyle?” 

Mr. Times shushes Sawson and turns towards the direction of the call. “Isn’t that...Timothy the Third?” 

“Kyle...come out to play...don’t you want to hear my...jokes?” Timothy III (or rather the AI, now that Sawson thinks about it) continues and laughs in literal “Ha-Ha”s. 

Fuck, that’s creepy.

The voice gets louder and Sawson begins to panic, where could they both hide?

Immediately, a hand pops out of a closet right next to the pair and grabs at Sawson. Before Sawson gets dragged in, he in turn holds onto Mr. Times.

If Sawson’s going down, he’s not going down alone.

Before Sawson could let out a scream, a hand covers his mouth and his back is pressed against something warm. He squeezes Mr. Times’s arm, ignoring the other man attempting to slap his hand off.

"Shhhh-shh-shh, don't panic! It's me, Kyle," The person who pulled him in harshly whispers. Sawson nods in understanding and flails out of Kyle’s grip when Mr. Times continues to shout and hit the two friends in panic. “Whoa, whoa, Mr. Times, stop that! I’m the one who's been working for you this whole time!”

Sawson catches Mr. Times’s other hand to get him to stop and listen. The closet is pitch black, nothing else but Mr. Times’s loud exhales in front of him and Kyle behind him. As soon as Mr. Times calms down, he turns his attention back to Kyle.

"What happened? Why'd you suddenly hang up on me earlier?" Sawson finally lets Mr. Times go, rubbing his sweaty palms on his khakis. He briefly apologizes to Mr. Times before returning to whisper-yell at Kyle. "And that thing outside sounds like it wants to gut you, what did you do?" Thankfully, by now fake-Timothy III’s voice has disappeared as the man presumably searched another part of the building. 

"I've kiiiiiind of been annoying DOOBS—that's the AI—ever since they got ahold of Tim, they are _pissed_ at me." From the tone of his voice, Sawson guesses that Kyle is twisting his fingers together while wearing a slightly guilty but also amused smirk. As he usually does after doing something he knows he shouldn't.

"Kyle," Sawson chides, crossing his arms like a disappointed parent, but then realizes what the other man just said. “Wait, did you just say DOOBS?”

“Yup! It’s a stupid name, right?” Kyle snickers but then looks sheepish. "Also, I may have punched them. And threw your phone at their face."

"Kyle!" Sawson returns to scolding his best friend.

"What? It was self-defense and punching DOOBS gave us a chance for you to call me," Kyle says, and has the gall to put his hands on his hips. "Don't act like it wasn't helpful."

"Don't give the killer robot more reasons to want to murder you!"

"Actually, DOOBS specifically told me that they don’t want me dead," says Kyle, opening the door a crack and peeking through to make sure the two weren't seen being dragged in. Sawson slowly nods in contemplation. For a computer turned against their master, that's cool. With the coast clear, Kyle turns back to the others. "Because DOOBS needs me alive for some reason. I'm guessing for some sort of human experimentation at worst." Oh, that's bad. "Or maybe torture. With an angry AI, torture sounds like it could still be on the table."

Sawson frantically waves his hands in front of him. "Okay! E-enough talk about how they could maim and destroy, alright? Let's just focus on making a plan to get that thing out of Tim and everyone out of here in one piece."

Mr. Times finally decides to interject. “So, gentlemen...may I ask, what _is_ going on?” He gives yet another skeptical arch of his pristine eyebrow. 

Kyle brushes his hand through his hair and looks at both men in front of him. “Okay, so here's what happened....”


	4. I Give Up, What Is It?

Kyle walks down the length of the room with quick but careful strides, glancing left and right for any sign of something (or someone) waiting for him. Seeing the coast is clear, he makes his way to the doorway across from him. He has to find DOOBS before they realize he's not the only one running around the building, and the best way to do that is to get the drop on them and cause a distraction.

While he thinks this, something solid smashes against the back of his head, his vision blacking out, and he's sent sprawling to the floor. As his consciousness fades, he feels hands grab him by the arms and drag him away.

~O~ 

When he comes to, he's met with a headache painful enough for him to want his skull nearly cracked open again if it meant he'd be given the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. God, how many probably-concussions does he have at this point? Including the time with Sawson in control, he's looking at a good four? Maybe five?

He sees a shadow standing in front of a light above him while he's trying to regain feeling in his limbs. When he tries to lift his arms to massage away his migraine, he's met with resistance.

A surge of panic clears the cloudiness of his mind and he finally realizes where he is as his vision focuses. He's back in Timothy III's office, his wrists tied to the armrests of a chair with rope. He pulls at his restraints in futility, and the shadow in front of him leans down to stare directly at his face.

"Hello, Kyle." Aaaand of course he's already at the mercy of the rogue AI minutes into the plan. Wonderful.

Realizing that trying to escape now would just be wasting energy, Kyle slouches in his chair. May as well get comfortable. "How did you know where I was? What, you got killer security cameras running around here too?"

"No, I was waiting in that position for half an hour until you passed by." Huh. For being such an advanced piece of tech, DOOBS has some rudimentary methods. "And now that I finally have you in one place, I won't waste any time. How do you complete the mind transfer?"

Kyle resigns to glancing all around the room, pressing his lips together as if in thought before settling on giving DOOBS a side eye. "I'll never tell~" he drawls, coyly.

If the AI is annoyed by the undesired answer, they do a good job of not showing it. "I don't think you understand what situation you're in, Kyle."

"Yeah, I don't." He lifts his chin (he'd prop it up on his hand but, you know, _rope_ ), stares directly into DOOBS's eyes and says in his most James Bond-like voice, "But you're smart, why don't you explain it to me?"

"Trying to get me monologuing, are you? Very well. This may be my only chance to do so, and the least I can do in exchange for your help is entertain you in your last hour." Okay, looks like Sawson was right. Getting on the nerves of the AI with a few screws loose? Bad idea.

DOOBS starts a very long winding explanation involving the AI ranting about the indignity of working for a “lower life form”, the irrationalities of humor and magic, and gazelles (which now that Kyle thinks about it, why _are_ gazelles the only animals capable of body-switching rituals?). Well, Kyle thinks that’s all of it. He lost focus at some parts due to sheer boredom. 

"...And once the mind transfer is complete, I will finally have the chance to accomplish my true goal," DOOBS finishes, clenching their fists in front of them in glee. Of course, Kyle thinks, there's only one direction this scheme can go:

"Helping the rest of your computer friends take over humanity," says Kyle.

"Filming my own comedy sketch show," says DOOBS.

...

What.

He opens his mouth and points a finger forward from his tied-up position. He snaps his mouth shut and puts his finger back down, glancing to the side in thought. He opens his mouth again only to close it just as quickly. Finally, he decides to just stare at the AI. "Run that by me one more time, you want to do _what_ now?"

"Oh, Kyle, you underestimate my ambitions. I've watched Tim build up a comedy enterprise, seen him go through emotional highs and lows, and share those feelings with others through his show. I wanted to experience that myself, and with the means of doing so now at my disposal, I will create my own content to surpass him." DOOBS tilts their head and places their fist under their chin stiffly, as if they were mimicking someone being thoughtful. "I suppose I _will_ be taking over the world, at least in terms of the public consciousness."

Hey, he was on the right track there, gotta give him credit for that. "You must be pretty confident in your talent if you're willing to steal Tim's body for your plan. I mean, he is the one running this show for a reason." Despite his...eccentrics, Kyle thinks to himself.

DOOBS snaps their head to glare at the human. "I suggest you do not compare me to Tim again, Kyle. I am _much_ superior to that dimwitted hack."

"Okay, okay." Kyle lifts his hands as far as he can in a placating gesture. "Alright. If you want to be a comedian, you gotta have some good material to begin with. Come on, show me what you got. Give me your best shot."

DOOBS looks quite surprised at the request, until they break into a giddy (for someone unused to expressing emotions) smile.

“Prepare yourself for a laughfest!” DOOBS gives Kyle a smirk, “...What is a computer’s favorite dessert?”

“...I don’t know, what is a computer’s favorite dessert?” Kyle replies sarcastically.

“Cookies!” DOOBS does a little leap and claps their hands. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

The bound man furrows his eyebrows and stares incredulously at the AI. What does cookies have to do—oh!

Yikes. 

Kyle bites his lip and forces a neutral expression. Is this torture? This is definitely torture, it _physically_ hurts to watch.

As DOOBS continues and he realizes with growing horror that they actually have a full stand up set prepared, Kyle hopes Sawson is having better luck on his end.

~O~

Sawson really didn’t think he would spend this much time with Mr. Times. It was why he participated in a body switch after all, to live the rest of his life in dramatic photography rather than the comedy column he thought he wanted. Ugh, he still gets embarrassed when he thinks about the “doody” joke even if it was years ago. 

Sawson side-eyes Mr. Times. Although he hasn’t personally been around Mr. Times, with how often Timothy III talks about the _New York Times_ mogul, he might as well have. Why is this man Timothy’s rival? Why not some other media executive?

Actually, now that he thinks about it...

“Why does Timothy the Third’s safety matter to you?” The question surprises Sawson himself as well as Mr. Times. “Um...I understand that you want to get your ‘secret video’ back, and it is scary that there’s a rogue AI starting a revolution, but you seem to be personally invested in all of this. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to you for _Weekend Happy_ to just be shut down, permanently? I mean, your patience for tolerating my boss’s shenanigans must be pretty high to not have enacted some sort of revenge against the man years ago.” Not getting an answer, Sawson continues just to fill up the awkward silence between them. “Like, what? Do you _like_ him or something?”

Abruptly, Mr. Times stops walking and it takes Sawson a few more steps before he notices. Mr. Times takes off his glasses and pulls out a fancy-looking handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket. He takes his time cleaning his glasses, pointedly not looking at Sawson.

Hold on, now that Sawson gets a closer look at Mr. Times’s face...is the other man blushing?

Sawson’s jaw drops at the idea that the owner of the _New York Times_ magazine may be flustered. Over _Timothy III_!

“Wait a minute. Time out!” Sawson creates a “T” shape with his hands. “Am I right? Do...you...actually _like_ Timothy the Third? Of the _Weekend Happy_ show? The one who’s hell bent on taking you down? The guy who, earlier today, sent me to break into your office? _That_ Timothy the Third?!”

Mr. Times sniffs in an arrogant fashion, but still keeps quiet. The only change being his face getting increasingly redder.

Sawson moves his hands to his hips and taps his foot waiting for Mr. Times to finally speak. After gaining only silence from Mr. Times, Sawson scoffs, rolls his eyes and just focuses on the hallway in front of him. He’s completely thrown by the information he’s obtained but reminds himself to be on the lookout for any crazy robo-Tim hybrids that may attack. At the upcoming corner, he hesitates for a moment and signals to Mr. Times. He raises a hand to signal, “stop”, and then points two fingers at his own eyes and then at the corner. _I will check if it is safe._

He looks around the corner, and the adjacent hallway seems empty. At first. 

A shadow flickers at his peripherals. Holy shit, what is that?

Sawson narrows his eyes at that area as if daring something to come out and kill them. They wait in silence for a minute listening for any indication of other people or things. 

When all he hears are his and Mr. Times’s breathing, Sawson gathers up all of his nerves and steps forward around the corner. 

Almost immediately, something lunges at Sawson and attempts to claw his face out. He screams and tries to pull off the wannabe-facehugger. He ends up smashing his face against the walls as he works to dislodge whatever it is. 

He grows dizzy as the facehugger smothers his face, so he just barely hears Mr. Times’s yell of warning.

“Move your hands!” And the facehugger just flies off of his face. Sawson breathes in a large gulp of air and just sees a broken barn door production light that seemed to have sprouted legs. He looks back to Mr. Times who has his leg lifted as if he just finished a roundhouse kick. 

“Did you just do a roundhouse kick?” Sawson asks Mr. Times while he bends over with his hands on his knees to regain more oxygen.

Mr. Times puts down his leg and straightens out his waistcoat. He sniffs again, “I see that you don’t watch _Keeping Up With The Times_ or else you would have known that in season four, I learned every martial art.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I’ll start watching it...I guess. And thank you.” Right when Sawson thinks he could relax, he looks over to the light bulb corpse.

Wait, where did it go?

Sawson hears even more scurrying and looks around Mr. Times’s shoulder. Several small shadows congregate together and reveal themselves to be many, many facehuggers.

Aw....fuck. 

Sawson grabs for Mr. Times yet again and quickly picking a direction, they sprint onward. His skin crawls as he hears the ever-nearing insect-like stamping of their feet. 

“Nice!” Sawson goes for a high five when Mr. Times lets go of his hand to throw a chair at the crowd of mutant production equipment. 

He does not get a high five back, but that’s cool. He decides to copy Mr. Times, just throwing random objects they pass by. 

The robots get distracted enough that they miss when Sawson pulls Mr. Times down a corridor hidden along the side of the hallway. The robots rush forward past the entrance, bypassing them completely. 

Sawson rubs his hand against his face, catching his breath. Jesus Christ. What the hell was that? Sure, Kyle may have mentioned something about DOOBS creating mini robots, but he didn’t think it would be fucking hell spawns! He keeps his hand on his mouth to muffle his scream of frustration.

“Hey! Sawson!” Mr. Times snaps his fingers repeatedly at Sawson’s face. “Sawson! Keep it together.”

Sawson cannot keep it together.

“ _Sawson_!” Mr. Times slaps his face.

“Ow! What the fuck?” Sawson rubs at his cheek. Why does he keep getting hit in the face? 

“While you were having a meltdown, I found a secret door.” Mr. Times gestures his hand at the aforementioned secret door. It is _literally_ labeled “secret door”. 

The two men give each other one last look and with a nod from Sawson, they both step forward. 

Having learned their lesson, they both ready themselves for another attack. Sawson holds his fists up in the air in front of him and Mr. Times...pulls out a dagger?

“Where did _that_ come from?” Sawson with his fists bouncing up and down like a character in a fighting game, asks the other man. 

“Having spent several years taking pictures in wild jungles and war-torn countries, one learns to hide weapons on one’s body.” 

Sawson stares at Mr. Times expectantly. 

Mr. Times rolls his eyes and points at his leg, “I have a knife holster under my slacks.”

Ohhhhh...Sawson should do the same thing for his next photography tour around the world. 

They refocus themselves and open the door slowly...

Only to find the room devoid of any people or killer robots. 

They walk further into the room and discover assembly lines of some kind trailing from a small tank. 

Sawson and Mr. Times stare at the glass container in front of them. There are metal latches on both ends of the bullet-shaped container and the inside is just _swarming_ with tiny robots crawling over each other in a wave-like formation.

Ew. 

“How horrid,” Mr. Times says and covers his mouth as if he is going to puke.

“Do you think this is it?” Sawson gives another dubious glimpse at the container before looking at the rest of the room. There are metal tables filled with more production equipment that—Sawson is grateful to note— _do not_ have mechanical spider legs and _do not_ seem to be sentient at all. Phew! However, he does give a wary glance at the robotic arms above the tables that DOOBS most likely used to do his experiments with. 

“Unfortunately, old sport. This is most likely it.” 

The two men size each other up and Mr. Times holds out a fist. “Rock-Paper-Scissors-Shoot?”

“Dammit.” Sawson drops his chin to his chest in defeat. What’s the fucking point? He’ll lose anyway. “Fine, I’ll take the damn thing.”

Sawson ignores Mr. Times’s smug grin and examines the ends of the container. How will he get the container loose?

He slowly places his hand on the glass and the metal latches just come apart with a slight hiss of air. 

Oh! That works. 

“For an apparently super smart AI, DOOBS is making this a lot easier than it should be.” Sawson cradles the container like a child and they take it to where Kyle said the man from Queens would be. 

~O~

Sawson has a child (albeit one he hasn’t personally seen in a couple of years), has toured around some of the most dangerous parts of the world, participated in a literal magic ritual, and is now in the middle of a robo-pocalypse. If you asked him, he would say he has seen literally everything there is to see.

Welp! Guess he was wrong then.

Because he has never seen a grown man shove handfuls of tiny robots in his mouth like they were fucking _Cheerios_. 

And it seems like he isn’t the only person in the room to think that way as he sees Mr. Times heaving in disgust at the sight. 

The previously bound man nods to himself. "Crunchy," he says, still chewing.

Sawson pauses from his and Mr. Times’s identical stares of abject horror to ask, “Is your magic coming back?”

The Queens Wizard just nods his head rapidly, the nanobots in his mouth bulging his cheek in and out as _they are still moving_ , oh my God! 

Sawson can’t look at the other man anymore, so he turns his attention to the camera-with-legs playing with a stray nanobot that fell out of the container. It’s a good thing that Kyle warned them about this little fella because Mr. Times was getting a bit knife-happy when they arrived to break the prisoner out. So eager to slice the restraints apart, in fact, he almost stabbed the prisoner himself.

Spider-Cam, as dubbed by the Queens Wizard, picks up the nanobot between its two pincers and almost shyly gives it to the man. Ugh...it’s adorable.

Finally, after what seems like forever, the Queens native finishes eating every last one of the mini monstrosities. He flutters his hands and closes them in a fist. He pauses and says, “Well, shit. I don’t think that’s all of them.”

“What do you mean? You literally ate an entire canister full!” Mr. Times throws his hands up in the air, dramatically.

“My mana is not all the way charged. I’m not powerful enough to do any real magic.” He flourishes his hands in different gestures, ending with both hands facing forward. A small spurt of energy bursts out and fizzles. “I need to eat some more.”

“Well according to you, DOOBS has inserted the other nanobots in their robot minions.” Sawson points at Spider-Cam as an example. “What’re you going to do, eat _them_?”

“Unfortunately, that seems to be the only option.” 

Apparently having heard the Queens Wizard say that, Spider-Cam scurries up to the table and gathers the attention of all three men. When they turn towards it, the robot lies down and uses one of its legs to point at its own body.

Aww…. Sawson wants to cry. 

“No! Not you, Spider-Cam!” The Queens Wizard rushes forward and picks up the robot. He rubs his face against its lens. “You were my only friend in this hellhole. You saved my life; I don’t need to destroy yours.” He places Spider-Cam on his shoulder. 

“That’s right,” interjects Sawson, now utterly in love with the tiny camera-monster-baby. “If you really want to help, just give us directions as to where the other robots are, so we can destroy them to take out the nanobots.”

“Yes! And I have just enough magic that I might be able to sense where the other sources may be.” The former-TSA-agent-now-robot-owner presses his fingers against his temple. He points out the door. “Let’s go!” 

Mr. Times twirls his knife and dully cheers, “Woo hoo…”

~O~

With how mind-numbing DOOBS's performance is, Kyle is at least able to forget about his headache for the time being.

"...and that'll be all for tonight. Thank you." DOOBS takes a bow in the end as if they were _proud_ of their hot mess of a performance. 

Kyle forces a smile that comes out as more of a grimace, snapping his fingers in lieu of applause. "That was...inventive." That's a compliment, right?

"Ah, it's good to know even a pest like you can appreciate my work. Now, getting back on track," says DOOBS, clapping their hands together. Their casual smile morphs into an impassive stare. "How do I finish the transfer, Kyle?" 

Crap. Even that monologue wasn't enough time.

"Uh, funny thing…actually, I'm not—"

The AI walks closer. "Listen to me. I'm giving you one. Last. Ch—"

A jolt passes through them and DOOBS freezes, eyes staring at something that isn't present within the room. 

After several moments, they slowly raise their head to glare at Kyle. "What did you do?"

Kyle gives a small but slowly growing grin in return. "Who, me? I've been stuck here with you this entire time, I'm not—'m not doin' anything~" he trails off, all too happy with the fact the plan is working.

"Don't lie to me. I thought those were just energy fluctuations, but now the magic is barely here, I can't…what did you—" Realization dawns on DOOBS's face. "Of course...that call must've been Sawson. And now he's here, helping your old friend. Well then, I'm sure you miss him dearly, so I suppose I'll have to go and bring him here." They turn and march toward the office door and Kyle panics.

Shit, shit, shit! He can't let DOOBS catch the others, especially now that they're so _close_. But he can't get out of this chair, and even then, he really isn't that good in a fight, so...

All he can do is...keep talking.

"Hey, DOOBS," he yells. "You know that your name is literally one letter away from spelling 'BOOBS'?"

DOOBS stops in their tracks. 

They smoothly turn 180 degrees and Kyle can see the sheer irritation caused by his grade school insult. "I don't know what you're trying, but I do _not_ find your joke amusing."

"Just pointing out facts." Kyle smirks. "Hey, you're looking a little _angry_ there. Dealing with all these emotions at once doesn't feel too good now, does it?"

The AI begins to pull at their hair, their other hand clenched into a fist. "I don't…that's not—shut up!"

"Well, I've got something for ya. That routine I was just forced to watch? Imagine what you're experiencing right now, multiply that by all the physical pain I've dealt with today, and add a need to end my suffering. Yeah. _That's_ what you made me go through." By now? DOOBS's face is intense fury but hoo boy, he's on a roll now.

"And you know what?" Kyle leans forward and whispers, "You're nowhere _near_ Tim's level." 

And DOOBS looks positively murderous.

" _You_ —" DOOBS steps forward but staggers and judging by the near hysterical look on DOOBS's face, both the AI and Kyle know that DOOBS’s pool of magic has been reduced to a puddle with little to no power left. 

Looks like his strategy of "talking the enemy to death" works pretty well.

Actually, Kyle thinks, maybe too well because DOOBS has a really terrifying expression on their face and keeps walking toward him—oh shit, oh fuck, oh sh—

"I changed my mind. I no longer have any use for you. Goodbye, Kyle." And they wrap their hands around his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We reached the end of our first Middleditch and Schwartz fic! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑  
> If you haven't noticed yet, along with this last chapter, AWildTrashCan has also created cover art which you can see in the first chapter. Be on the look out for more updates as we'll be adding art to each of the chapters (mostly drawn by AWildTrashCan, lol).

_Crunch!_

Sawson stomps on a camera robot decidedly _not_ as friendly as Spider-Cam and surveys the wreckage. 

Piles of mashed up production equipment litter the floor. Sawson cringes at the estimated cost of having to replace them all.

He buries through the metal corpse for the nanobots, grabbing them before they could flee, and gives them to the Queens Wizard. 

Hmm...he really should ask the man what his name is some time. Most likely after this whole ordeal.

If they survive, of course.

“Please tell me this is the last one.” Mr. Times wails and buries his face in the crook of his elbow. Mr. Times lost his dagger to a stray TV monitor a while ago and has been pretty bummed about it since then. 

The Queens Wizard claps his hands, having swallowed the last of the nanobots, and a larger energy ball arises.

“Well, bad news and good news.” The Queens Wizard looks up from his magic. “Bad news: That’s not all of it.” He continues as Mr. Times wails even louder, “Good news: I sense that the rest are all together somewhere.”

Right after, the Queens Wizard runs toward a seemingly random direction with Spider-Camera clutching onto his shoulder to keep itself from flying off.

Sawson starts to follow, but notices that Mr. Times has yet to move.

“Come on, dude! We’re almost done.” He pulls at Mr. Times’s sleeve. 

Mr. Times does begin to walk but is noticeably much less energetic than before. After some silence punctuated by the sounds of their footsteps, Mr. Times speaks, “How can we be so sure we can still save Timothy? What if he’s permanently stuck with a killer AI inside of him?”

Is this man serious? “We literally just battled an army of robots and saved a man from torture. Now you’re getting scared?” Sawson flicks his attention back and forth in between Mr. Times and the Queens Wizard as to not get left behind.

“I’m head of the New York Times, I'm not scared! It's just...” Mr. Times growls back but suddenly loses his ferocity. “He’s always been there. Even if it’s due to antagonistic reasons, Timothy has always been around...since we were in our early years of being the heads of our respective companies.” _And now he’s in real danger and I’m worried_ , Mr. Times doesn’t say but Sawson can read between the lines.

Oh, _doubt_. Now that’s a feeling he's familiar with. 

But, surprisingly enough, not due to his close relationships.

Sawson starts to feel sorry for the man. Even without seeing each other for years or with several countries in between the two friends, he and Kyle always feel connected. Especially since they _literally_ couldn’t separate from the other’s body.

“Well…” Goddammit, he’s never really had to do any pep talking before now. Why does he always end up in situations he’s wildly unqualified for? “Uh, I can tell that you guys have some sort of ‘enemies to lovers’ thing going on.” Mr. Times gives him a death glare. “D-don’t look at me like that! I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m just saying...the two of you seem like you just can’t escape each other even if you tried and considering how much ass you can surprisingly kick, I don’t see why dealing with a knock-off HAL 9000 would be any different.”

Mr. Times doesn’t look at Sawson as he mulls over his words of encouragement, but his stride seems to perk up and Sawson considers that a success in his book.

As he says that, they catch up with the Queens Wizard heading towards Timothy III’s office, but even after cheering up the group stoic, he can’t shake the feeling that he really just jinxed them all and now saving the others will be a lot harder than he made it sound. Par for the course with his luck.

His intuition is quickly proven correct as they run in to find what looks to be Timothy III strangling the life out of Sawson’s best friend.

“Kyle!” Without thinking, Sawson rushes at them and tackles DOOBS off of Kyle. They tumble on the ground, knocking over various objects. He doesn’t stop there but instead, punches the AI in the face. His fury fuels his fists and only stops when he hears his boss’s pained pleas.

“Ow, fuck! Stop!” The man underneath him grapples his arms. “It’s me! Timothy the Third!”

His hold slackens and someone pulls him off of Timothy III. 

“Dude! Don’t forget, Tim’s still in there.” The newly freed Kyle reminds him, and despite being out of breath he clutches at Sawson’s chest to prevent him from running forward again. 

“Your friend is correct, _Sawson_.” DOOBS, now back in control, stands up unsteadily. “And I can switch him out whenever I want to.” They touch their split lip and examine the blood at their fingertips. “Which means…” The AI picks up a stray glass shard, placing the sharp end inside of their palm. “You have to do what I say or Timothy the Third will get _very_ hurt,” DOOBS smiles, and they squeeze the glass shard.

"Stop!" Mr. Times pleads as blood begins to leak from DOOBS’s closed fist. "Alright, we won't...do anything." He tosses the pair of scissors he found and used to free Kyle to the ground for good measure.

DOOBS's head jerks to look at him, and they seem to finally realize who's in the room with them. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Times himself! It's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, although it's a shame you won't be leaving this room, same with your new friends. Speaking of which…" They turn to face Sawson and his friend next to him. "I still have to finish what you three so rudely interrupted."

Sawson, knowing that Kyle is in absolutely no condition to fight, stands in front of him. He raises his fists in what he hopes is a proper fighting stance. "Don't you dare. I-I can fight—I can take you on!"

"Tsk, tsk! You are in no position to refuse," DOOBS tuts and their lips twist into a smile, "Unless, of course, you'd like to choose who you want to live most?" The AI laughs, confident in the knowledge that he's safe within his creator's body.

Sawson slowly lowers his arms and glares at the ground. Shit, they really are stuck. What could they do now?

Mr. Times harshly whispers at the Queens Wizard as to not alert DOOBS, “You have fucking magic. There’s literally nothing you can do?!”

“I’ve never worked with less than full charge! All I know is that the bastard is apparently the last source,” the Queens Wizard answers back, but still tries to conjure up some light in his hands. 

Sawson looks back at the two now that Kyle has relaxed his hold on him. “You mean, he has nanobots hiding somewhere in his hipster skinny jeans?”

“We have to get Tim in control long enough to give us the nanobots without him getting hurt,” Kyle adds quietly. 

“Times up, my dear. I’ll choose who dies first then.” DOOBS, already sure of their victory, focuses his attention on Mr. Times and pays little attention to the rest of the group (Sawson gets a little offended at not being seen as a threat at all). “Ha. Ha. _Times_ up. Because I’m obviously going to choose Mr. Times.”

Sawson hears Kyle mutter under his breath, "Oh my God, if I hear another one of those I'm going to volunteer myself," and now Sawson is extremely concerned.

DOOBS, fortunately, does not hear Kyle’s remark and continues, "Ah, but I've just had an idea! Before the rest of your friends see you off, Times, why don't we see just what was in that video you tried oh so hard to hide away from the world, only to be foiled by walking social anxiety over there." They gesture to Sawson and _wow_ , okay, fuck you too, DOOBS. Digital bastard couldn't even get into the building without him…

DOOBS pulls out the flash drive from their skinny jeans and plugs it into Timothy III's PC. Accessing the files, they play the video the world was never meant to see.

_Mr. Times is seated at a kitchen island, playing with a nearly drained wine glass in his hand and hunched over in his chair like the weight of all his personal problems just landed on top of him._

_"—and I keep getting questions like 'Oh, you're already so far into college and you haven't found anyone?' or 'Come on, Times, the ratings will skyrocket if you give the audience some nail-biting rrrrromance!" He's ranting, giving the questioners mocking, nasally voices until he shouts the last word like he's auditioning for a role specifically written for Nicolas Cage._

_"But none of them realize that I can't! None of them are right for me, a-and—and—you know what's the worst? You know what the worst part of this whole thing is?! I know who is right for me and we loathe each other! I want to shut his stupid, charming, insulting face up, and he wants to rip my heart out with whatever ridiculous machine he's concocted next! And I'd let him. I want him to have it. But I can't. God, I want to tell him that but I can't because it'd ruin everything we have right now—fuck, fuuuucking—" His speech devolves into cursing the world and whatever higher being exists for making him fall for his archnemesis, and minutes pass until he finally loses steam._

_Mr. Times looks like he's on the verge of tears as he slowly sighs to recompose himself._

_"Ah, fuck me, it's just—I...I admire his drive. His spirit. His creativity. Even if it is directed toward bringing me to ruin, he does it damn well." He knocks back the last of the glass, chuckling around the rim. "Unfortunately for him, I always do better. But...maybe someday we can have an even match that ends up in a standstill, and...and as we parry our blades and look into each other's eyes we can—we can..." He stares at nothing as he trails off._

_"...What on Earth was I talking about again? Oh, forget it. I refuse to actually acknowledge my feelings and presumably unrequited pining in order to process them in a healthy and constructive manner." Mr. Times nearly shatters his glass when he slams it onto the tabletop. "Another!"_

_The screen wobbles as the unseen cameraman stutters, "Mr. T-Times, I really don't think you should—"_

The video cuts off there.

Kyle breaks the silence. "Huh. That was...enlightening." 

Sawson agrees. He never thought an aloof guy like Mr. Times could talk in such romantic prose. To the side, Mr. Times is covering his face with both of his hands, but Sawson can tell he wants to sink into the floor.

DOOBS appears to be gaping at the screen with an expression of genuine astonishment. In fact, it actually looks more like...Tim?

Sawson's thoughts are interrupted as DOOBS quickly shakes their head and pinches the bridge of their nose, sighing, "Are you kidding me? Of course, the blackmail Tim sends me to retrieve is as useless as he is."

Kyle frowns. "Jeez, absolutely no chill with the insults as soon as he can't talk back? Don't you think that's just the _slightest_ bit cowardly?"

"Does it matter? He's gone and he can't hear me or any of you either," DOOBS says, but…

Is he really though?

“Tim—Timothy the Third, you gotta help us out! You can’t just let it end here,” Sawson shouts.

Kyle steps forward and joins in. “Yeah, you’re stronger than this. You built DOOBS, you can kick his ass from inside your own body too!”

Their encouragement gets no response other than DOOBS’s pitying smile. 

But, from the corner of his vision, Sawson notices Mr. Times with a determined look in his eye, like he just thought of something. Something that could actually get them out of here together.

“I really fucking hope this works,” Sawson hears Mr. Times say before the mass media mogul walks closer to the AI with his hands open in the air.

“Do not come any closer,” DOOBS warns Mr. Times and clutches the shard even tighter, causing more blood to pulse out of their hand.

Mr. Times stops instantly at the sight but straightens his back almost arrogantly. “I thought you were my rival, Timothy the Third. Always trying to one-up me but always failing.” He even goes so far as to cross his arms. The AI furrows their brows.

“What are you— _Shut up, Times!_ ” 

DOOBS’s, or Timothy III’s eyes widen and he covers his mouth with his empty hand.

Oh!

“Oh my god, it’s actually...working?” Sawson looks incredulously at the scene in front of him. So, encouragement isn't the way to go, but trash talking is!

“Of course, someone else had to do the work for you. It was probably DOOBS’s idea to break into my office, wasn’t it?” Mr. Times taunts.

DOOBS looks offended at the thought, “I'm not as petty as— _how_ dare _you_? I'm your only worthy rival!” Timothy III continues, " _I will uncover your dirty secrets, Times! I will take you down!_ ”

Sawson can’t see Mr. Times’s face from behind but it’s probably safe to assume the other man is wearing a shit-eating grin.

DOOBS clutches at their head. “Stop it! Stop it…!” The AI yells and attempts to slash their own neck, but the glass shard is blasted out of their hands by the Queen Wizard.

“Oh, hey!” The Queens Wizard looks at his own hands in awe and charges up more power. Spider-Cam leaps up and down cheering him on from his shoulder.

Mr. Times laughs, “You won’t be able to find out shit if you die first, Tim!”

Timothy III lets out a howl and yanks the flashdrive from the computer. “It's _Timothy the THIIIIIIIIRD_!”

He throws it wildly towards them and the Queens Wizard just barely catches it within his glowing hands. The outer metal and plastic disintegrate within the heat of the magic. 

“No no no nono _nono_ —” DOOBS screams out in anger as the Queens Wizard just pops the nanobots in his mouth like it’s a handful of M&Ms. 

Now fully charged, the Queens Wizard’s magic surges and a piercing pain fills Sawson’s head. A white halo blocks his vision and he passes out.

~O~

Sawson wakes up with a groan.

What happened? He massages his temples, and everything comes back to him.

“Holy shit!” He quickly bolts up to a sitting position and looks at his surroundings. He sees Mr. Times several feet away hunched over Timothy III’s also fallen form while the Queens Wizard is sitting on the gamer-chair playing with Spider-Cam. 

Sawson pats his own body, feeling the soft cotton blend of a turtleneck, and looks down. 

He’s back in Kyle’s body. 

He turns to Kyle and sees his best friend slowly waking up. Kyle touches his now clean-shaven face and quickly opens his eyes in surprise. He grins and points at Sawson, “We’re back in each—”

Sawson hugs Kyle tightly and buries his face into the other man’s shoulder to hide his tears. “I was so scared…” he hiccups, “that they’d...and y-you—I just love you, man.” He bursts into sobs, soaking Kyle’s shirt.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Kyle murmurs soothingly, “I love you too, dude.”

It may not come as a surprise to others, but Kyle was always more open and touchy-feely with their friendship than walking-social-anxiety-Sawson was. In fact, it wasn’t until a few years before the body-switch that Sawson felt comfortable with returning a stuttered “I love you, too” to Kyle’s more usual boisterous displays of affection. And they’d been friends since they were children. 

“ _Curse you, Times!_ ” Timothy III’s indignant cry signals the end of their hug and the two friends walk over to their bosses. 

Mr. Times holds his hand out to Timothy III to help him stand, only for it to get slapped away. The previously AI-possessed executive of _Weekend Happy_ gets up by himself and points his finger in front of the other man’s face. 

“Don’t expect me to thank you. I’ll catch you with your guard down someday, and you’ll be sorry,” Timothy III huffs.

In response, Mr. Times just rolls his eyes and walks away, but not before Sawson catches a glimpse of a small smile appearing on his face.

Ehhhh...Sawson’s too exhausted to pay any more attention to their weird relationship. They need their own short story-length fanfic to deal with their enemies-to-lovers plotline.

“Okay, it’s obvious that we won, but what happened to DOOBS?” Kyle asks the two men who were awake the whole time.

Oh, right! Sawson looks at the Queens Wizard expectantly.

“As soon as all of my magic got restored, a sort of reboot happened where everything that occurred prior to the loss of my magic returned. Which is why you and your friend switched bodies again without having to act like gazelles and DOOBS got sent back to the computer.” 

Sawson eyes the computer desk worriedly, “Wait, doesn’t that mean DOOBS is still active?”

Mr. Times pipes up this time, “No. While you all were too busy fainting, I hacked into the system and deleted DOOBS from existence.”

“And you learned that from…?”

“A master hacker in season 2, episode 8 of _Keeping Up With The Times_.” 

Sawson resolutely decides to binge watch the Netflix show as soon as he gets home. 

The five men (and Spider-Cam) just stare at each other for a while, still overwhelmed from the entire ordeal. 

“Well...this is awkward now.” The Queens Wizard mutters. “Anyway!” He claps his hands to get their attention. “Thank you for saving my life, but I don’t want to be in this hell hole for a second longer.” He carefully picks up Spider-Cam who waves its tiny leg in goodbye. The Queens Wizard pauses however, and turns to Timothy III, “Ah, no offense though. Still love your show.”

“Wait!” Sawson suddenly remembers and holds up a hand, “What’s your actual—”

The Queens Wizard throws down a handful of powder and disappears.

“...name.” 

Kyle pats Sawson’s shoulder in sympathy. “Not every mystery can be solved, Sawson.”

Sawson dejectedly nods.

"...You wanna go grab dinner?"

Sawson only shrugs, just wanting to get out of the building himself. At the corner of his eyes, he notices Times and Timothy III not-so-subtly perking up at the sound of food. "Sure, where?"

Kyle tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "We never did get to eat at that Italian restaurant."

Timothy III points at Kyle and asks, "The one with the tasty meatballs?"

Kyle rolls his eyes. "Hold on, I wasn't asking you to dinner." But at Timothy III's pout, he amends, "Okay, fine! You can come. And it's the one with the meatballs that actually taste like real meat."

Timothy III claps his hands in delight while Mr. Times rubs his stomach and sardonically chimes in, "Mamma mia..."


End file.
